ON LASTING

Fossilise this like
The lines of that dragonfly wing
Fragility eternal in ancient stone.
I don’t think rock could hold us.

Cavemen in stained jim-jams
Draw stick-men on walls
Their parents will wallpaper over
And sell on.

We gave up on
Trying to mark
Our self-cleaning surroundings
Maybe history can only hold
So much?

Your saliva on my chapped lips,
Pollen on each others noses,
Half-conscious whispers.
Don’t try and draw this?
Just let it live,
Then bury it:
Let it rot into the flowers
We counted
With snow on their lips.

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2 thoughts on “ON LASTING

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